


just take what you can (and never let me go)

by EternalEpoch (aecusfalcon)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Inappropriate Use of Light (Destiny), Inappropriate Use of Reflections, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Tender Sex, Trans Male Character, is it a threesome if one of them is a reflection, saint becomes a sandwich filling if u get my drift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aecusfalcon/pseuds/EternalEpoch
Summary: It is an act of worship. Feeling Saint’s light just underneath, thrumming with power. Sayingthis is me.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	just take what you can (and never let me go)

**Author's Note:**

> notes before this:  
> i'm a trans guy, and i'm not at all projecting onto osiris. i use dick as a descriptor for him. anyways go wild.

Osiris can feel Saint’s gaze upon him as he straddles his lap. Saint temporarily places his hands on either side of his hips as he pulls off his shirt. He shivers when Saint traces fingers over the tattoos that line his torso.

“I always forget you have these...” he murmurs.

“You’re not disapproving of them, I should hope.”

Saint chuckles, and lets his hands fall back down to his hips, “No, they are beautiful. Just as you are.”

He’s centuries old and somehow Saint’s compliments always manage to catch him off guard. So, he retaliates by grinding his hips down against Saint’s.

Saint gasps, then huffs, “You are terrible at taking compliments.”

Osiris crawls off of him and starts to pull off his pants. “Do you want to have sex tonight or not?”

“I do, but I think I should be allowed to admire you while doing so.”

“Sap.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Osiris pauses, then looks to him, eyes narrowed. “Did Sagira send you my poems again?”

“You left them out.”

“And you saw that as an invitation.”

“Some of those poems should not have been left out for anyone to see.”

Osiris grunts as he falls back into bed. “I never leave my poems out”

“Of course, because you never make mistakes do you?”

“You’re ruining the mood.”

“I am certain that you were the one who started this.”

Osiris doesn’t respond, instead he slides a hand over Saint’s crotch plate. Fingers prodding for the small give in synthetic muscle.

Saint inhales, clenching his fists into the sheets. “Osiris… do you need help finding the release again?”

“No, I have it.” He stops when he finds it and applies pressure. Saint’s dick slides out and Osiris smiles to himself smugly.

Saint sits up and twists, grabbing Osiris by the shoulders and pulling him close. (Osiris will never admit it out loud that he loves it when Saint manhandles him.)

“And here I thought patience was a virtue.”

“You have made me wait long enough old man.” He moves his hand low, one finger dipping into Osiris’s folds.

His breath hitches at the intrusion and Saint chuckles.

As Saint works him open he rubs a thumb over the tip of his dick in slow circles. It’s not enough. Osiris grinds up against his hand, desperate for more friction. 

“Patience.” Saint mocks, using his other hand to hold him down and Osiris has never wanted to throttle him more.

“You’re a terrible man,” he breathes.

Saint adds another finger and Osiris clutches his upper arms

“You like it when I take control, don’t you? For someone so insistent on controlling everything you melt under me.”

Osiris closes his eyes when Saint adds another, allowing himself to fall into the pleasure. It is a meditation, an act of relinquishing control, absolute trust in his beloved where he would show such vulnerability to no other. When Saint pulls out he lets out an involuntary whine.

“Hush.” He pulls Osiris’s hips up into his lap. “Are you ready?”

Osiris nods mutely, his hands moving to rest on top of Saint’s.

He gasps when he pushes in, the stretch and the burn just bordering on pain. (Saint knows how much he likes it. He knows how much he revels in that pleasure-pain.) 

Osiris gathers enough of himself to focus his light outward.

Gilded hands trail across polyfiber muscles, catching at metal plating worn from age as he thrusts into Osiris. Lips hover just above Saint’s back and he relishes in how he shudders under his touch. (It is an act of worship. Feeling Saint’s light just underneath, thrumming with power. Saying _this is me_. Osiris’s light dances, mingling with Saint’s, the clashing of their very souls verging on being too much. Yet knowing it’s _not enough_.)

“Cheat,” Saint mutters.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” the reflection says.

Saint glances back at the reflection, his movements slowing to a stop when he looks down. He chuckles low, “I do not think that this is what was intended for our Light.”

The reflection rolls his eyes and doesn’t take the time to prepare him before thrusting in. Saint moans low, shuddering at the burn, cursing in Russian. The reflection stills for a moment to allow him to adjust.

Osiris grows impatient at the lack of movement, so his reflection draws back then snaps his hips forward, pushing Saint back into Osiris. The pleasure coming from both ends is overwhelming and blinding and _perfect_.

Saint whines at the feeling and the reflection moves a hand to cover his mouth, his other hand wrapping around his chest as he languidly rolls his hips into him. Saint makes such lovely sounds, it makes Osiris want to draw every moan, every whine from his throat.

“See how perfectly you fill him?” the reflection whispers into Saint’s ear, “How perfectly you take him? And how you take me?”

Another moan is pulled from Saint as his reflection buries himself in his lover over and over. Osiris clenches around him, his own hips rolling to meet Saint thrust for thrust.

“Harder, rougher, you know he deserves it.”

They move in tandem now. Osiris hooks his legs around Saint as his thrusts become more intense. His reflection speeds up, pulling his hands from where they were and pushing Saint’s back down so that he hovers directly above Osiris. Saint rests his weight on his elbows as he leans his head down to brush up against his face.

“No.” Saint says after a moment, and his thrusts abruptly slow. The reflection blinks and slows his own. Osiris looks up at Saint, confused, but willing to wait for an explanation.

“I do not want to do rough tonight.”

_Ah._ The reflection pulls out and kisses along Saint’s back reverently.

Osiris cups his face in his hands. “We can go as slow as you want. Is the reflection too much?”

He shakes his head, “No, no it is fine. Is good. I just want to savor it.”

The reflection takes the cue and slides into Saint again, taking a moment to enjoy his tight heat, how he moves his hips back against him involuntarily, how he then thrusts back into Osiris almost unsure of where to go. Torn between the two stimulants.

The pace is slow, but each thrust is more intense than the last. Each time his reflection pushes in, each time Saint meets his hips, a groan is punched from him. Osiris loses track of where Saint begins and where he ends.

Saint shifts his weight to rest on one arm and uses his other to intertwine his fingers with Osiris’s. He brushes his face up against the junction between his neck and shoulder, lips nipping at his skin. Osiris rests his other hand against the back of Saint’s head, his breathing heavy.

“I’m close,” Saint says into his skin.

“Me too.” 

His reflection’s thrusts become erratic and sloppy as he approaches the edge, that fall into oblivion. Saint untwines their hands and reaches down between them, fingers rubbing against Osiris’s dick and it’s too much.

He lets out a shuddering breath as his orgasm reaches its peak, his light blinding the room. Saint continues to fuck into him, once, twice, and then he stills, a moan ripped from his chest into Osiris’s ear before he collapses on top of him. The light dissipates and his reflection is gone, leaving just the two of them.

Osiris grunts, crushed under Saint’s weight.

“Saint,” he manages between breaths.

Saint comes to, pulling out of Osiris and falling to his side. “I forget how small you are sometimes.”

Osiris hums in response and curls up into Saint’s arms, happy and sated and _exhausted_.

“Should we not clean up? You are always so particular about that.”

“Later.” he says as he kisses Saint’s cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> not stated in it but the strap is made of light. call that a strap of radiance. (i'm so sorry)  
> title's from so handome hello by woodkid (i'd suggest checking it out. it's a song about bottoming during gay sex if you're interested.)
> 
> update: i added more since i was Simply Not Happy with how it was


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